Page 71 of The Roman Holiday Rule

“This is a long walk to wherever we’re going. Too bad you couldn’t just beam me over, Scotsman.”

My nostrils flare involuntarily. “That’sStar Trek, notStar Wars.”

A sly, roguish twinkle lights her face, and she very deliberately pronounces her death wish. “Same thing, right?”

Lucky—very lucky—for her, we turn at that moment onto Via dei Coronari. The cobblestoned pedestrian street is lined with antique shops and historical buildings and, best of all, out of the way and mostly untouched from its Renaissance days. Walking down the long, straight street, I can squint and pretend I’m in the sixteenth century.

She grabs my arm, gasping at the aged ambience. “Ooh, you showed your cards a little soon. This is the heart of Italy, right?”

“No, it’s lunch. Come on.”

I lead us a little way down the street and pull open the door of a tinysupplìrestaurant. There are people eating at the four-seater tables and a couple on the red love seat, but a few spots remain at the narrow bar-table running the length of the right sidewall. I seat her on a stool under the massive mirror and set my messenger bag on the other seat. I order several flavors of fried, breaded rice and cheese nugget-balls and then join her with the loaded paper plates.

“Wow, these smell like cozy comfort food.”

“Messy and greasy, you mean?” I show her which is which and let her make her choice.

She pulls thematricianoone in half, releasing spicy tomato-scented steam and gooey, melted mozzarella.

After a few bites, I swivel my barstool to face her. “So, about our bet. I propose we up the ante. Extend the bet and raise the stakes.”

“How?” She takes another huge bite from her ball of rice and cheese and watches my reflection in the mirror.

“You need an insider’s perspective. Hang out with me and let me show you Rome. I won’t give you the answer, but we’ll play a game that will help with your away-team disadvantage. Then at the festival, we both put up a picture and have the voting live. People can put their votes in all day and we tally the points at the close of the festival on Sunday.”

She wipes her hands on the paper napkin. “If they vote with coins, we can use it as a fundraiser for the arts. There’s room between the cinema display and the architecture gallery where we could do that. Live voting would be fun. So what about the higher stakes?”

A new customer squeezes into the last spot on my left, crowding me, so I scoot my stool closer to Lexington, facing her. There’s so little room, my thigh brushes against her knee.

“Winner gets...” I pause, waiting for her to look at me. “Whatever they want. Within reason.”

Her mouth opens, not that I’m watching it. “What does that mean? Like what?”

I will myself to not look at her lips as I shrug. “Money, pictures, information. I don’t know.” I lean close and breathe my question into her ear. “What do you want, Lexington?”

Forty

Lexi

Ishiverat Mark’s question, his stubble brushing against my cheek, and his voice in my ear.

The last time he was this close to me was yesterday at the ice cream shop when we almost kissed, a private corner of memory that I haven’t let myself visit.

What do I want, Mark?

The same thing I’ve always wanted. Italy. Only now for new reasons.

He pulls back, grinning. “Don’t answer yet. That would be only in the case that you win.”

I open my mouth to ask what he wants, but he shakes his head. “I’m not telling either. We just play it out and live with the results. Are you up for an adventure?” He extends a hand, and I stare at it.

What in the world am I getting myself into? How can I say yes to a blind-consequences bet?

He tips my chin up to look at his face. His heart-stopping smile dares me, coaxes me, and encourages me. There’s no more resisting. On its own, my hand lifts and shakes his.

“Good. It’s a deal.” Mark slings his bag over his head and across his chest, dumps our trash in the bin, and guides me out of the restaurantwith a palm on my back. Reaching forward to push open the door in front of me, he mutters, “That was way easier than I thought it would be.”

Because my heart is a traitor.